On the greatness of Kurt Rosenwinkel and Peter Bernstein
On the greatness of Kurt Rosenwinkel and Peter Bernstein
Hi, and welcome to the first installment of a new project of mine. This is a music blog in which I will share some of my musical opinions, experiences, and beliefs that I’ve cultivated over my last few years here in NYC. While I’ve never fancied myself much a writer, being in attendance the last three nights at Smoke Jazz Club to hear two of my heroes has inspired me to humbly make an effort to articulate in words what they do so amazingly with music.
Part 1. My introduction to jazz guitar
I vividly remember sitting in my bedroom at age 14 and clicking on Joe Pass’ solo arrangement of Summertime on YouTube. This marked the beginning of my exploration into the world of jazz guitar, where I had almost exclusively limited my guitar learning to Lynyrd Skynyrd and Stevie Ray Vaughan. Armed with nothing but a curious mind and an internet connection, this led me to stumble onto other “guitar giants” that were tangentially related. Next was Django. Then Herb Ellis. Then Grant Green, Kenny Burrell, Tal Farlow, Bireli Lagrenge, and so on and so on. As I became more familiar with the sounds I was hearing, which coincided with me getting older and more mature, my tastes became more refined and I found myself drawn less and less to the guitarists who resorted to “tricks” and “flash”. Their thing was cool and went over well with friends, but I remember feeling a much more intense and lasting emotional connection from Wes Montgomery’s “What’s New.” His simple and almost textbook interpretation of the melody to me was a much more complete musical statement to my ears. My point in leading with this is to illustrate the following: the guitar is an unbelievably challenging instrument when used to create the level of music we associate with other great musicians of that period, and even amongst the greats, few guitar players have been able to “cut all the way through” and create this elusive level of music on this instrument.
Peter’s Greatness
Peter is the just about the only guitarist I’ve ever heard that makes me LOVE tunes. Tonight at smoke, he played his patented intro to Pannonica. How many times have we heard him do this? Melody in 6ths. Open string minor 2nds. Monk esque whole tone descending clatter, like a stack of plates being dropped. And yet, every time, I am absolutely stricken by how special it feels. This is a trait that all of the great musicians of this music embodied. From Bird to Trane, to Monk, to Keith, to Joe, they OWNED tunes. The had THINGS on other peoples tunes, and they made them theirs without a quirky arrangement. I really believe that Peter feels as if he is playing it for the first time each time he does it. I have transcribed Peter a little bit, but emulating this sensibility that I’m describing is infinitely more challenging than simply copying notes. Peter commands musical language and vocabulary that rings throughout all jazz history, and yet he presents in on guitar as if he is reaching up on his tiptoes to grab the phrases out of the air- pluck- just in time to resolve over the harmony. This combined with his rich, clear, brilliant sound embodies an aesthetic of jazz that I work tirelessly to emulate. This constant readiness, ability to “deal” the information of this music in a slick and hip new way, leaves me breathless.
While Peter did most of the talking on the mic, I know that Kurt has sought out Peter for a number of similar gigs, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he put this one together as well. This brings me to something I’ve noticed and have discussed with a few of my friends- it is an NYC guitar rite of passage to play a gig with Peter Bernstein as a special guest. I can think of no less than 10 jazz guitarists who have invited Peter to be on gigs with them in NYC alone. Why is this? Why would you possibly want to share the stage with someone whose playing is so grand and strong that you could be musically dwarfed? After a lot of thinking, my conclusion is this; Peter represents the purest expression of the jazz guitar lineage in New York, and by simply being in his presence, we as jazz guitarists instantly feel more connected to ourselves and our tradition. In addition to this, he is a masterful accompanist in just about any setting, and his unwillingness to play things he doesn’t hear allow him to blend seamlessly into countless musical settings.
Kurt’s Greatness
Writing about Kurt’s greatness at times can feel futile, because so much has already been said about it. When people talk of Kurt, there is an almost tacit understanding that this is the absolutely baddest person in our lineage of music to touch a guitar. For many people, his greatness is synonymous with his breathtaking command of the instrument. Watching him play is unlike watching anyone else play a guitar. The fingers assemble and reassemble on the frets seamlessly, his thumb drooping over the top of the neck to grasp a root for an otherworldly voicing. His right hand pulls notes out of the guitar from his elbow, his picking hand reaching back to strum a chord near the bridge. While he is undoubtedly graceful, articulate, transcendent, I’m struck by the violence of watching him- he commands the guitar with such a force and vigor that I’m unaccustomed to seeing. That all being said, I think many people get hung up on this aspect of his playing and either romanticize how fast he can play, or are quick to write him off as a “shredder.”
The thing i was struck by the most these three nights was that he didn’t reuse any material in his soloing. As much shit as he played, I felt as though I was watching his neurons firing all at warp speed, his eyebrows fluttering, and somehow he was compelled to impose his will on the instrument in new ways every beat of every tune. I couldn’t believe how “ready” he was to play the sheer amount of things he played. All of this with what is a clearly a deep rooted appreciation of the architects of this language- Bird, Trane, Bud, Monk, Barry Harris, Dizzy.
While his pyrotechnics may dazzle and distract some, Kurt’s message is deeper than this. His treatment of repertoire suggests an immense dedication to the American songbook- learning tunes from iconic versions by singers, such as his note for note repackaging of Billie Holliday’s “Deep Song.”
Kurt has many faces as a guitarist, and those with some familiarity with his evolution appreciate how he has continued to grow and push himself to new heights. While now he is playing more notes and patterns than perhaps ever, he has countless records where he moves the listener by playing a tasteful melody in thirds, or a simple voice leading passage that strikes one with how barebones it is. I think this speaks to the fact that as transcendent as he is on his instrument, Kurt always does what the music asks of him, and serves as a neutral vessel that lines and melodies flow through effortlessly.
Conclusion
I write all this for many reasons.
First and foremost, I am a jazz guitarist, and seeing these two men play reminds me that my instrument is in a place where people are reaching unprecedented heights on it, even today. In a musical landscape that is post-Bird, post-Trane, post-Bud, post-Elvin, etc. I’m not sure that can really be applied to any other instruments. I am excited by the fact that the guitar is finally catching up to the innovations we’ve seen for decades on the rest of the bandstand.
Secondly, I write this in a humble (and perhaps futile) endeavor to give Peter and Kurt their flowers while they are here. I want people to know that they are truly, and in the purest sense of the word, GREAT. They exemplify all of the traits any young musician coming up should imitate, and do it with class and grace. I feel so much gratitude that I’ve been able to witness them play as much as I have.
